Scent
by songofthepen
Summary: AU destiel fic. When Castiel, a hunter Alpha who everyone thinks should be an Omega, and Dean, an Omega pretending to be a hunter meet, what will happen to their lives? Watch as everything goes topsy-turvy for the boys, and everyone around them. Rated M for smut later on. Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, Heat, Knotting
1. Chapter 1

Castiel slumped forward heavily on his uncomfortably smooth stool, gripping his bottle of alcohol tightly in one hand and leaning his dark haired head at an awkward angle on the other arm, using the metal surface of the bar to support himself. He was seriously exhausted, annoyed and wounded all over his body. Six. He'd had to deal with _six_ goddamned vampires at once, all by himself, armed only with a machete, two vials of dead man's blood and his hunting skills, since his usual partner, a redheaded girl named Anna that he used to like in Catholic school, (until he found out she was an Alpha) was taking a health-related vacation after a hellhound nearly killed her. He'd foolishly underestimated the size of the coven and paid the consequences.

He'd only had time to drive to the Roadhouse and get a couple of beers to celebrate surviving for one more day, just to sleep in a third-rate motel room and probably do another hunt tomorrow.

"Fucking vampires," he muttered under his breath, his already gravelly voice roughened even more by stress. He inhaled slowly, letting the calming scents of the Roadhouse fill his nose. Blood, booze, sweat and alpha and omega pheromones mingled headily, soaking into his skin and washing away the last dredges of heart-busting adrenaline from his latest hunt. Just as he was finally starting to relax, a firm, long nailed hand grabbed him and shook him by his aching shoulder, demanding attention. He sat up far too quickly, careening wildly and spilling his beer onto himself. He groaned, his blurred vision struggling to make out the figure before him. When he recognized her, he sighed, rubbing a calloused hand over his face. Ellen Harvelle, the beta who owned the bar.

"So, this is the great Castiel Novak that I've heard so many stories about," Ellen said sarcastically, looking unimpressed.

"And here he is in the flesh, drunk off his ass at my bar." Castiel groaned.

"Give me some time, Ellen. I just got back from a particularly difficult hunt, and I'd like to relax a bit, please." His usually eloquent voice was slurred, and he stumbled over the words.

"Whatever. Just, I can't have you half asleep here in the front, so just take a seat in one of the booths in the back. I'll bring you another drink," she said, eying his beer-stained shirt. Luckily, he'd removed his trench coat for once, and it sat high and dry on the high back of the stool.

He grunted in reply, pushing back the stool and stumbling to the back of the room. He knew quite a few of the hunters who were laughing and talking in boisterous, loud voices at the tables around him, but honestly he couldn't be bothered to talk to any of them. He found a fairly isolated booth in a darkened corner, only close to one other. He sighed in relief, and slid onto the red, cushioned seat, staring glumly down at the worn mahogany of the table before him. Ellen came by after a couple of minutes, and passed him a fresh beer that he accepted gratefully. He sucked it down thirstily, feeling it burn its way down his sweat beaded throat. He looked at his watch, to see how late it was, and saw with shock that it was November 27th. He chuckled darkly. Had he really lost track of the days so much that he'd forgotten even today?

Well, it wasn't like he had much of a choice. That was his whole damn life, eat, hunt, sleep, and sleep with.

"Happy birthday to me," he said softly, scratching at the stubble on his chin, and his heart twisted a little in his chest. A single tear threatened at the edge of one bright blue eye, and was ignored (don't you remember Michael and Gabriel and even good ol' daddy dear said alphas don't ever cry) and drowned in alcohol. Just like all the rest of his problems.

* * *

Dean Winchester was fucking tired.

All he wanted to do was relax, chill with some alpha hunting buddies and drink. He'd spent the whole week on a case which turned out to be a nasty case of ghost possession, and he'd nearly got Sammy mauled to death in the process of ganking the son of a bitch. So he left Sam home to lick his wounds and sulk, and headed for the Roadhouse.

He drove over the freeway pretty quickly; everybody else he'd called for his impromptu Alpha's night out was already there and probably waiting in there for him to show up. When he finally arrived at the rowdy place that was basically as close to home as he'd ever come, he pulled his sleekly purring baby into a parking spot close up to the building and cut the engine, relishing the familiar sharp sound of the car door as he opened and closed it. He hurried out of the cold parking lot toward the warm, inviting door, dragging his leather jacket closer around him with a rustle. Leaves crunched under his boots, and the cold was cutting him straight down to his bones.

Damn. It was freaking' cold for goddamned November. It was still autumn, for God's sake, so why did it feel like someone had stuck him in the freezer for a week and a half? He pushed in the door, happy to come inside, and walked in, and walked in, kicking his shoes against the rug. He raised his head, breathed in, and then the scent hit him like a brick wall, physically pushing him a step back, screaming _AlphaAlphaAlpha_ over and over in his short circuiting brain.

He froze up as the door slammed behind him, trapping the smell in with him and making it two hundred times stronger. He gasped for air and only made it worse, his eyes fluttering open wide and his face heating up, and there was definitely a lot of blood traveling south as well. He looked around, searching for the source of the tantalizing scent. It wasn't any of his hunting buddies, he'd smelled them before, on nearly a daily basis, and they were nothing compared to this- this sensory fucking _molestation_.

Wait-his hunting buddies. Dean closed his eyes, breathing lightly through his slightly open mouth to reduce the amount of smell permeating his lungs, locking down the desperate instinct to lower himself to the ground and beg for it, bare his neck to whoever was broadcasting that level of fucking Alpha aroma.

He might be an Omega- and an unmated one at that, but he wasn't like the others. His dad had taught him to take heat suppressants, and spray on Alpha scented deodorant every day; even to carry himself in a manner that made nobody, not a single damn person think he was anything but a confident Alpha.

Come to think of it, John might have been a bit ashamed that his eldest presented as an Omega, but at least Sam had come out Alpha like him. Dean pushed the intoxicating smell to the back of his mind, with more than a little difficulty. He opened his eyes, plastered an easy smile onto his face, and eased his stature back into a relaxed, look-at-me-I'm-hot-and-cool posture, glad nobody had paid enough attention to him to notice his momentary odd behavior. Willing his boner away, he approached the bar where his friends were taking shots and laughing. Benny was talking up one of the waitresses at the side, obviously drunk, and Dean rolled his eyes. The guy couldn't ever keep it in his pants, even for a minute. He greeted Kevin, Adam and Jo with a nod and a friendly, "Hey, guys." Kevin grinned, smacking him hard on the back.

"Hey, Dean. I was wondering when you'd show up, considering the fact that you invited us here." The other Alphas nodded in agreement.

"Well I'm here now," he said, slightly distractedly. The scent was still there, cutting through all the other Alpha scents and taunting him, urging him to scramble as fast as he could to his- no, not _his_ Alpha. His eyes scanned the room. If he needed to he could jump over some tables, if only it would get him closer to that fucking smell, dammit. Jo frowned slightly, looking concerned.

"Hey, earth to Dean. You okay?" she asked, putting a warm, soft hand on his shoulder. Her blonde hair fell softly, framing a face that he might have found attractive if she wasn't his best friend from childhood. She was the only person other than Sammy and his dad that knew he was an Omega, and one of the only people he could trust.

"Yeah, yeah… I'm fine," he said slowly, still not looking at her. When he finally snapped his attention over in the right direction, he hesitantly smiled again to cover over the awkward moment. "Uh, yeah. Let's take a seat over at the back," he said, hoping that it would take him further away from that scent that was about to make him slick himself.

Of course, he had no such luck.

* * *

Ok, so that was the first chapter! I know it's really short T^T. I hope you like it. Reviews would be appreciated! ;D *UPDATE* the formatting issue has been fixed! I don't know what happened, it was fine before -_-


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel lifted his head, annoyed. Four or five new people had come in, laughing and boasting about past hunts, and of course they just had to choose the empty booth next to him, out of all the possible others. He glared at all of them, one by one, even though they probably couldn't see him, folded up as he was in the corner of table, trench coat slung over one shoulder.

They were all obviously Alphas. He could tell not just from the smell, but also their manner of speaking and their movements… but there was something slightly off about the last one of them, a tall, brown-blond haired man who appeared to be slightly uncomfortable.

His eyes, framed with sooty eyelashes that were long enough to be visible in the semi-darkness, darted around the room as he shifted from one foot to the other, his boots' heels clicking softly.

Castiel's nostrils flared wide on instinct, taking in the guy's strange scent. He definitely smelled of Alpha, on the surface at least, but beneath it there was another scent that was so sweet that it made his dry mouth water, like honey mixed with nutmeg and something else, something primal that made him want to growl for the first time in two and a half long years.

Castiel looked him up and down, curiously, as the man sat down with the rest of his entourage, their voices a low rumble as they leaned across the table, looking at each other in the dim light from the lamp in between both booths. All except for the one he'd noticed, who was looking around the room still as if searching for something, or someone. Maybe he was mated, and the reason he smelled so sweet was that his Omega's scent still lingered on him, which tended to happen with particularly…_intimate_ couples.

Castiel snorted with a jerk of his head, and muttered, "Lucky bastard."

The guy's head whipped around, and he stared right at Castiel with wide, green eyes. The Omega scent strengthened. What the hell was going on?

* * *

Dean breathed in, hard. The Alpha was _right across from him._ Dean hadn't seen him in his original frantic search because he was pressed up into a corner, in shadow. And, now that he got a proper look at his face, goddamn he was fucking gorgeous, with blue eyes you could drown in and pink, full lips, even better than he'd been fantasizing for the past couple of minutes instead of listening to his friends' chatter.

The oxygen around seemed to burning red hot, beaming a path right towards the man. After a moment of raging internal battle, he pushed away from the table, unable to think about anything but reducing the distance between him and his Alpha. And, yeah, it was his Alpha, now, there was no doubt. For a moment, he wondered why no one else could smell it, but then he realized he didn't particularly care.

Ignoring his friends' concerned questions, (Hey Dean, where the hell are you going?) he stood up and took a step forward, and another. He had eyes only for the person sitting in front of him, a wary expression on his face.

He walked in a trance like state over to the booth next to him, and pulled out the other chair with a dull thunk. The scent was so strong here, that for a beat he sat in silence, eyes closed, and inhaling repeatedly to get as much of the beautiful musk into his blazing lungs as possible, even though it probably looked weird and really creepy.

"Uh," the Alpha said, his voice deep and rough, like waves rasping over sand. "Who exactly are you?" Dean opened his eyes again, and smiled, sighing in drunken satisfaction.

"Dean Winchester, at your service," he said, inclining his head and then leaning back in the chair. The guy seemed to know who he was, because his eyebrows quirked upward slightly in what appeared to be respect. Dean studied his face, and the guy shifted slightly in his seat, looking confused.

"Well, Dean, I've heard about you. Seems you're a pretty good hunter, people all over know you." He crossed his arms over his chest, his flannel shirt, nearly identical to Dean's, pulling up at the bottom and revealing a strip of tanned, smooth skin. Dean choked, and had to turn it into a cough.

"I'm Castiel Novak." Castiel gave him a half smile, and Dean wondered whether he should lend the cracked-lipped man some of his chapstick. Jesus, Castiel Novak? This guy was a legend in the hunting community. Dean had heard that once he'd taken on a coven of twenty bloodsuckers with only one other hunter. But, like most legends, it was probably mostly myth, mixed in with shards of truth. He should know. It was his job to find those shards.

Dean stretched over the table, his elbow hitting a beer bottle with a sharp clink, as he lost whatever patience he had been able to hold onto and got desperate. Castiel leaned in the other direction, alarmed.

"Listen, can we go outside?" he blurted, wanting to get away from the hunters in the bar, all the prying eyes and whispered comments.

"We need to talk. Alone."

Castiel looked confused again, but nodded, rising with him, waves of heady Alpha scent rolling off of him, making Dean sweat, and take off his leather jacket to tie it around his waist, to hide Dean Junior's fervent attempts to make his presence known.

He turned and left, ignoring Jo as she called his name, urging him to come back. As they passed through the room, making their way to the door, all the alphas and betas, even his friends, that they passed looked at Dean oddly, scenting the air and glancing at each other.

Great, his Alpha deodorant had probably stopped working, which only lent to his growing suspicion that Castiel was a possible mate.

Too bad he couldn't smell himself. He sped up to avoid a situation, hoping Cas could keep up, stepped outside, and waited for Castiel to join him.

* * *

Castiel walked out uneasily, one hand resting at his belt where his gun lay, a comforting cool length pressing against his leg. It wasn't every day, in fact any day ever that a strange handsome man of questionable secondary gender approached him wanting to talk.

It'd only been the haze of alcohol that had caused him to follow Dean, and now that, along with any trust he might have had in the guy was fading fast.

"Listen, Cas," Dean swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. Before another word could come out of those distractingly pretty pink lips, Castiel interrupted him.

"Cas…?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. Dean blushed, looking embarrassed, and Castiel noted that almost all the Alpha scent was gone from him and he now smelt like clean, pure Omega, better than any other that he had ever smelt. He was probably just using an Alpha deodorant.

"Uh, I figured Castiel was a bit wordy," Dean studied his boots.

"But, like I was saying, you…you're…" he started up again and then hesitated, and Castiel (or Cas, as he had now apparently been nicknamed) was starting to get impatient.

"Spit it out, Dean," Cas snapped, a little more harshly, with a tone of his Alpha voice leaking in. Dean gulped again, audibly, and opened his mouth to obey.

"I don't know if you can smell me, but I'm actually an Omega," Dean said, looking at Cas for confirmation, who nodded.

"And, I've been kinda faking being an Alpha so I can be a hunter without getting the whole 'You should be at home cooking and cleaning' kind of crap. And since most hunters are Alphas, I'm around them every day. But I've never…" Dean trailed off, blushing.

"Never smelled someone like you before. Ever," he finished, giving Castiel an apologetic glance.

Cas nodded.

"And I, you." Dean seemed slightly taken aback.

"D'you, think we might be… you know, compatible?" Dean asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Cas shrugged lithely, a rolling, cat-like movement of his shoulders, to cover as he frantically thought of a way to extricate himself from this situation. He couldn't have a mate, not after what had happened last time.

"Maybe. But in this business, it's rather hard to keep people alive, and losing a mate would be like losing a limb," Castiel knew all too well about that.

"So maybe we should…" Dean nodded, taking the hint. He opened his mouth again, but shut it, and walked away, back to his car. Castiel winced as the car door slammed.

* * *

Two days later, Dean was laying in bed, every single particle and cell in his body burning and sparking with electricity. When Sam came to check on him, Dean groaned and threw a pillow, yelling at him to go away and leave him alone, and he did.

On Monday morning, the day after he'd met Castiel, his heat had triggered suddenly, making him bedridden and _painfully_ horny.

He had no idea what had happened, but he figured that when he met Castiel, who was most likely a suitable mate for him, whatever he'd been using to hide the fact that he was an Omega had stopped working, including his heat suppressants. And when he read the back of both products, it confirmed his theory.

Dean hadn't had a heat since about ten or eleven years ago, when he was sixteen and had presented as an Omega. John had freaked completely and locked him in Bobby's panic room for a week. This time it was worse. His whole body was screaming to find Cas and press himself so far into the ground that he could smell the goddamn earth's core. And the thought that this would last a whole week?

Torture.

Torture was the only way to describe it, he decided, laying in a pool of his own day old slick and sweat. Sam came in once every day to change the sheets, but right now they were filthy. Thankfully none of it was come, as he had refused to jerk off at the idea of Castiel after the guy had gone and blown him off. Him. _Dean Winchester._

Sam ducked his head back into the doorway, his huge body doubled up to fit inside.

"Hey, I'm going to go get lunch. Do you want me to get you food, or heat suppressants or something? Would that help?" his brother asked, his voice ringing in Dean's ears.

"No, it's too late for those," he moaned, pressing his reddening face into the light cream motel pillow with shame. Here he was, hard enough to pound diamond, covered in only a sheet since anything else chafed his boiling skin, in front of his freakin' brother. At least last time Sam hadn't been allowed near him. Now he was all he had left.

Thankfully, Sam left after that, and closed the door, pushing cool air over Dean's fevered skin. He shivered, pulling the covers over himself more tightly. Thankfully, Alphas who were family with Omegas couldn't smell them, to prevent inbreeding.

Two awful hours that felt like two days later, Dean had had enough. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and still in the throes of his second-ever heat, he punched in Bobby's number.

"Bobby. I need help, man," he bit out.

"What's wrong Dean? What did you do now, ya idjit?"

"Do you have any idea where I could find Castiel Novak?"

**Ahaha this chapter had a lot of shit going on and was so hard to write! So I took an extra day to write it, sorry! Love you guys, and thanks for all the positive reviews! :D Um, so I'm going to update every 1-7 days. Feel free to kill me via PM if I don't. Please review ;^;**


	3. Chapter 3

Armed with directions to Castiel's rumored location, a small, partially ruined mansion nicknamed the Bunker by those who visited, Dean hopped in the Impala with Sam.

He was still annoyed that both Sammy and Bobby had made him wait to go to Castiel's house, saying 'We don't need any Alpha matin' you right now,' with the ever-freaking-present, 'It's what John would've wanted.'

As his car hummed to life, he glanced up into the rear view mirror to see his little brother aiming Bitch Face #39 at the back of his car seat.

"What?" Dean asked, defensively. Sam narrowed his eyes, muscles taut, as if ready for a fight.

"I'm just not sure if I trust this 'Castiel' guy," he said, baring his canines somewhat as he curled his upper lip, Alpha scent tinged with protectiveness filling the car. Dean turned on the AC with a sharp jerk of his hand.

"Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?!" Dean growled, contorting on the well-worn leather seat to glare at Sam.

"Just 'cause you're an Alpha and a giant freakin' moose, doesn't mean you have to watch over me like I'm some sort of sissy punk! I mean for crying out loud, Sam, I'm _your_ goddamn big brother! I may be an Omega, but I'm not an idiot!" Dean ranted.

He jammed his key into the ignition and revved the engine angrily.

Sam held his hands up in surrender, raising his eyebrows at his brother's outburst.

"Alright man, it's just a hunch, I guess," he relaxed somewhat, leaning back on the back seat as his long hair spilled onto the headrest. With a murmured curse, Dean turned back to the steering wheel.

* * *

Castiel answered the knock on the door with the silver flash of the muzzle of a gun pointed at his head and a tilt of his well-shaped head.

Dean shuffled back a step, choking down a surprised yelp, and Sam growled deep in his chest from his position on the bottom of the three metal stairs leading up to the front door, where Dean had firmly told him to keep his ass.

Castiel looked him up and down, his original glare softening into confusion. "Dean?" he asked, lowering the gun. He looked behind Dean. "And this is…?" he gripped the gun a little tighter at Sam's growling.

"My little brother Sam," Dean said, his voice an octave higher than he intended.

"Yeah, my little bro, who was just getting back into the car like I asked him to." He gave Sammy a hard look, and he backed off, heading back to the Impala.

Castiel twirled the gun in his left hand, and shoved it back into his pocket. Dean watched, entranced, until he forced himself to avert his eyes and face the Alpha in front of him.

"Look, Dean…" Cas said, in that same, rejection-y tone that he'd used before, but Dean cut him off.

"No, Cas, don't give me any of that crap." He took advantage of Castiel's shock at his words to step inside and shut the door. The room that they were in was dusty, old, and decrepit, with peeling flowered wallpaper and sagging furniture, consisting of a faded couch and a pathetic chair shoved into the corner. A single, yellow naked bulb lit the scene.

Ignoring his surroundings, Dean grabbed Cas by the sleeve of his light tan trench coat.

"Look, man, I know you're not into the whole mating thing," Dean started, holding onto Castiel more tightly as he tried to squirm away,

"And honestly I wasn't either, until I saw you at the Roadhouse. I mean, look at what's goin' on with me! I'm supposed to be on heat suppressants, and they've stopped working. I mean come on, you gotta put me out of my goddamn misery." Dean knew he probably sounded like a whiny brat, but he didn't really care.

Castiel stopped struggling, and, with a sigh, walked over to the couch, motioning for Dean to follow. When he sat, slowly to avoid raising a cloud of dust, Cas turned to him.

"Let me tell you a story, Dean."

**ahahah I know you hate me for making this chapter really freaking short but I wanted to end it specifically there.**

**Love you too!**

**Next chapter should be up by Sunday. *cackles like a maniac***


	4. Chapter 3 part 2

Castiel took a deep breath, and began to speak.

"I had a mate. Right up until two years ago, about. She was the nicest person I'd ever met, and her name was Meg, Meg Masters. She was the reason I got into all this hunting crap, too, so you can thank her for all of my success. We met each other about ten years ago, all the way back in college."

Dean raised his eyebrows at that and Castiel laughed bitterly.

"Yeah, I was in college for two years. I was still a kid, and I had dreams, y'know?" he sighed at the memory.

"So Meg and I were best friends, we did everything together. The only difference between us was that I had no friends other than her and she had plenty. She just kinda strung me along one day and never dropped me. I thought she was completely normal, but then she told me a secret, one night during spring break. She told me about her little 'side hobby' as she put it. I learned all about the things that go bump in the night." Cas leaned back further on the couch, and Dean watched the trails of dust that fluttered out intently.

"I thought Meg was insane, and I told her so, so she took me out on a hunt with her. A wendigo. I think I cried all that night after she killed it, out of sheer fear. But I got over it, and the two of us started to hunt together. We never acknowledged it, but I got to be better at it than her."

Dean smirked.

"Another thing that we didn't talk about was the fact that she was an Omega. During her heats, she'd go over to her friend's house and I'd hunt alone. That was, until we got really drunk and she didn't remember her heat was coming on, and well, we mated. Meg freaked, yelled at me and left, and I was so worried that she hated me, but then she came back and apologized. I forgave her."

"We made it work, somehow, and I was as happy as you can get in this business. I thought… I thought maybe it could last. She was smart, I was smart, maybe we could survive somehow. So on my birthday…on my goddamned _birthday_, when Meg suggested I stay home at the Bunker while she went out on a hunt, I said okay. It was supposed just to be a regular old salt and burn. She didn't...didn't know that it wasn't, she had no way to know that she was hunting a fucking demon."

"And when the girl she went with called me up and told me… told me she was…"

Cas couldn't continue. His lungs were burning and his head was swimming wildly, and the small, rational part in his brain was screaming at him to shut up. Hot salty tears were pouring down his cheeks now, great, rattling sobs tearing out of his throat, and he buried his face in his hands.

It still hurt, it still hurt, it still hurt so bad it was killing him, burning him up from the inside out.

* * *

Dean hesitantly reached out a hand, rubbing soothing circles into the other man's heaving back. He tried to ignore the pleasant tingle that shot up his body at the feel of the contact; right now he had to focus on making Castiel feel better.

When Cas had finished crying, he sat up, still sniffing a little, shoving Dean's hand off his back, and exhaled, a long, slow breath that must have emptied his lungs. Dean was little scared by his expression, empty and somehow aged as he stared at a spot on the wall. His blank eyes were still red-rimmed, but no more tears escaped them.

"I shouldn't have done that," Castiel said, his gravelly voice low and sharp.

"Why?" Dean asked, under the hand pressed to his lips.

"Alphas don't cry. And I'm an Alpha." Cas deadpanned, making Dean fly to his feet with an Alpha-like growl.

"Come the fuck on, Cas. That shit doesn't fly with me. My whole _life_ has been me pretending to be someone else. There's no shame in crying."

A tiny smile flitted across Castiel's face, and he finally looked away from the wall and at Dean.

"Alright!" Dean said, determinedly.

"I have an idea now why you were so against the mating idea," he began, arms crossed in a _don't-give-me-any-bullshit _manner.

"And I've decided that you need to find a way to get out of that sad, sort of pathetic sack of self-pity that you're crapping all over yourself in."

Castiel opened his mouth indignantly, but Dean silenced him.

"So we're going to try to make this work between us, okay? And if it doesn't work out, I leave, and you can do whatever the hell you want."

Cas sighed exasperatedly. "Fine, I guess."

Dean grinned.

**NOTE (PLEASE READ!): I am soooooo sorry! I planned to update this story quite a while ago, but I had to rewrite this whole scene because I lost it, plus I've been gone for a while. Thanks, love you guys, and sorry once again.**

**BTW- LeeMarieJack, as an answer to your review, yeah I kinda planned the previous chapter just to be a buildup to part two, don't worry.**


	5. Chapter 4

Dean packed the last of his guns into the huge cardboard box, making sure that it was empty of bullets before shoving it in with its many, many companions. He'd spent all morning loading his crap into the backseat of the Impala, since the trunk couldn't fit everything, considering he'd spent all of the previous day out shopping for more stuff at Sam's insistence.

He only kept one gun on him, and that was just in case something bad went down.

Sam stood just outside of the doorway of their latest motel, sulking.

"So let me get this straight," he began.

"You're just _moving in_ with some Alpha guy you just met?" Sam asked incredulously, a muscle jumping in one of his crossed arms.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"It's probably not gonna be permanent, Sammy. If it doesn't work out, I come back and you get to put up with your big brother again."

"But who do I hunt with in the meantime?" Sam pouted, scuffing one boot against the ground, and leaving a white chalky mark on the pavement.

"For the millionth time since last night, you can work with Bobby, Rufus, Jo, or any of my friends, just don't tell them where I'm going. And if you need me…" He held his phone up, waving it gently, then dropped it through the car window and onto the passenger side seat with a soft thump.

"Now goodbye, Sammy. I'll see you soon." Dean pushed the box into his car, and pulled out the driver's side door, relishing the familiar squeak.

He stepped into the car, stuck the key into the ignition and started the car purring.

"Dean!" Sam called. Dean rolled down the window.

"What?"

"Take care of yourself, okay? Promise me that."

"I will, Sam. I promise."

It was a four hour drive from their out of the way motel back to the Bunker. That and the fact that he hadn't seen Castiel in four days was enough to start Dean's gut stirring uncomfortably. He was anxious the whole drive over, questions blowing through his mind like leaves in a hurricane.

Would Sammy be okay?

Would _he_ be okay?

And worst of all, would Cas even like him?

Dean was glad when he finally parked outside of the Bunker. He rubbed a hand over the inside pocket of his leather jacket where he kept his gun, and, reassured, walked up to the door and knocked.

Castiel answered fairly quickly, and thankfully no weapon was pointed at him.

"Hey," Dean said, at a loss for words, his mind blank of everything he'd planned to say.

"Hi," Cas replied.

Then after an awkward silence stretching over a minute,

"Do you want to, uh, come inside?"

Dean nodded gratefully , and followed the shorter hunter inside. Castiel closed the door behind him, and scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, glimpses of what looked a little like fear glinting in his crystal blue eyes.

"Well, I cleaned up one of the rooms upstairs for you, it's still kind of cluttered, but if you, y'know, stay, we'll clean it out properly and everything. There's food in the kitchen and flour and eggs and stuff if you want to cook or anything, not just because you're an Omega or something like that…" Cas squeaked out, strangely Omega-like in countenance.

Dean chuckled, amused.

"Nah, it's cool. I actually do cook from time to time. My brother always says I make a mean cheeseburger." He winked, and Castiel blushed, turning away.

Dean watched his face intently. Cas was really strange, up close. All the stories he'd heard had portrayed him as strong, brave, even scary at times. But this Castiel? He was shy, quiet, and more than a little bumbling. Dean figured that maybe with time he'd know more about the other man and be able to understand him better.

"I guess I'll go over to the car and get my stuff, then."

It'd been nearly a month since Dean had moved in with Castiel.

He'd settled in pretty well; All his stuff was moved in and he was comfortable in his room, a surprisingly spacious area with an attached bathroom and three nice, big windows. When he asked Cas about it, he explained that it had originally been Meg's room, and she'd made him clean it up and make it look nice.

So everything would've been perfectly alright, if it wasn't for one thing.

Castiel treated Dean like a just another hunting partner; he'd joke around with him, they'd do jobs together, even go out to bars, (provided none of Dean's buddies were there, he was still avoiding them) but there was nothing…special about their relationship. Nothing that indicated that they were possible mates. And Dean was tired of it.

He wasn't really all that sexually 'deviant', wasn't really into all the bondage and spanking and S&M crap, but he was gonna have to pull something major to get Cas to come around, no matter what that meant.

So he devised a plan, and waited.

Castiel paused at Meg's- no, _Dean's_- bedroom door, conflicted. Today was the day he was finally going to stop pretending; today was the day he kicked Dean out.

He'd tried, honestly, to treat the younger man like a mate, but usually he'd just chicken out and act like he was just another hunter, and he could tell it was hurting him. So he'd just invite him out on a hunt that he'd been working on, just a quick salt'n'burn, and then drive him over to the nearest motel and politely ask him to leave.

Castiel ran through the plan once more in his mind, and knocked, taking a deep breath. Dean opened it shortly afterward, his strong jaw masked in an early morning shadow of stubble, green eyes clouded with sleep.

He yawned.

"What's up, Cas?"

Castiel still couldn't get used to the idea of having a nickname; even Meg had just called him Castiel.

"Well, I figured out what was killing those guys down in Lawrence. It's a vengeful spirit. You wanna help me burn the bones later? I could use some back up, this thing's pretty freaking powerful."

Something flashed over Dean's face.

"Nah, I'm a bit sick today. I think I'll stay home, 'kay? See you when you get back."

Dean closed the door before he could complain.

Well, crap. He was going to have to figure out another way.

Castiel sighed, and shuffled back down the stairs. This was going to be a long day.

Dean waited till he heard Cas's car start in the driveway, then leapt out of bed, yanked open the door, and hurried into the other hunter's bedroom. On his bed, the silver of its case contrasting the white and blue checkers of the duvet, sat exactly what he was looking for. Castiel's laptop.

Praying that his theory was right, he started up the computer and opened a window.

If Dean was correct in assuming that Castiel hadn't been with anyone since Meg, his internet history would be just what Dean needed to search through to find what got Castiel going.

He clicked to the search history, and _damn._ It appeared that Castiel had never once cleared it out, so it was chock full of kinky shit. Dean scanned the screen, and looked for the ones that were the most searched, memorizing them. Then he slid off the bed with a soft slither and hurried downstairs to his Baby out in the garage. He had some shopping to do before Cas came back.

**I'm sorry these first few chapters have been short, but I like to make my first four short enough that I can get a good idea of whether or not people like it before I really invest myself.**

**I'm also sorry for the wait, most of you won't know, but I struggle with both depression and anxiety, and sometimes it's hard to get out of bed, let alone write a chapter. **

**I hope you'll understand, loves.**

**Thanks,**

**Jay~**


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